


Secrets to keep, Secrets that weep

by CarminaVulcana



Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19044787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarminaVulcana/pseuds/CarminaVulcana
Summary: How did Baahu know to gravitate towards Katappa? What melted the resolve of the slave that he allowed the prince to plant a garden of hope and humor in his heart?





	Secrets to keep, Secrets that weep

“That bloody orphan is no nephew of mine,” Bijjaladeva thundered in front of over 120 royal guests. “Go away, boy. Don’t come here again.”

Little Amarendra was too shocked to even cry. A moment later, he clenched his teeth to stop his lips from quivering but the moisture in his eyes gave him away.

“But, uncle…” his voice wobbled.

However, Bijjaladeva would not be moved.

“Leave, boy, don’t you understand? Today you have spilled my wine. Tomorrow you will spill my blood. Leave! Be gone.”

“Maharaj, you have had too much to drink,” Sivagami admonished her husband.

“Be quiet, woman,” came the response.

Bhallaladeva started to cry. He hated it when his parents fought; and it was even worse when the reason for their anger was his little brother.

“Father,” he tried to reason with the drunk man. “Baahu did not spill the wine deliberately. We were playing tag and he didn’t see where he was going.”

“Of course, he didn’t. The precious crown prince can afford to be blind when his dear aunt refuses to see his faults.”

“Enough,” Sivagami shouted. She then turned to Katappa. “Take the children away.”

“I will not go with him,” Bhalla cried. “I will not.”

“You stay here then,” Sivagami snapped. “Baahu, go. I will talk to you later.”

Normally, he would have responded with a cheerful, “As you say, Mother.” But today, he was being forced to question everything he had ever been told. If Uncle Bijjala was not his uncle, then the Rajmata was not his aunt either. And when he didn’t have the right to even know her as aunt, how could he dare to call her mother.

The half-pitying, half-contemptuous looks of the various guests made him feel rather small and alone. He longed to experience the warmth and comfort of mother’s lap…. no… his aunt’s lap.

But she had ordered him to leave. And it was never a good idea to disobey her.

He looked up to see Katappa smiling apologetically at him.

“Come Baahu,” the royal slave said gently. “I will take you to see the horses in the stable.”

Baahu had never spoken to Katappa before. Of course, he had seen him around but like with most other officials and servants, he had never had an opportunity or reason to interact with him. After all, a four-year-old child was too young for lessons in swordplay, riding, or archery. So far, the only things he had been taught were counting, the Sanskrit alphabet, the Telugu alphabet, and the names of various rivers, lakes, mountains, and kingdoms near Mahishmati.

“Ho… horses?” Baahu whispered. “I am scared of them. They are too tall and big. And they run fast. I can’t run that fast at all.”

“You won’t have to,” the older man reassured him. “Come, I will carry you in my arms. Then, you will have no reason to fear.”

Katappa took the young prince in his arms and held him close. “There, all safe now. You are a fine, strong lad. The horses will be no match for you. You will see.”

Baahu clutched the lapels of Katappa’s tunic. He stared at the iron hoops in his ears, the healed cut just below his jaw, and the few strands of grey in his impeccably trimmed beard. He also smelt nothing like Mother… oops, aunt. While she wore jasmine flowers in her hair and perfumed oil on her neck and wrists, this man only smelled of sweat and dirt and maybe… maybe horse dung.

“You stink,” Baahu blurted out with no apparent malice.

Katappa chuckled.

“That I do, yuvaraj,” he agreed. “But most soldiers stink by the end of the day. You will too once you are older.”

“I will not,” Baahu pouted. “I will wear jasmine buds in my hair like the Rajmata so I won’t stink.”

“But only women and girls wear flowers in their hair. You are a boy.”

“Then I will wear flowers in my beard.”

Katappa snorted. There was no outsmarting the little prince.

“How would you like it if I made you a string of roses for your beard?” Baahu asked him.

“Er…,” He didn’t know how to answer that. What if he said no and the child started crying because of it.

Reluctantly, he decided to say yes.

“I would like that very much,” he answered. “But you don’t need to go all that trouble. My beard can manage without any flowers.”

“No way,” Baahu retorted. “You need them, and I will get them for you tomorrow. Besides, you are taking me to see the horses today. I must pay you for your labor. And since I have no money, the least I can do is give you flowers for your trouble.”

“You are very wise for your age, sir,” Katappa said rather seriously, but a hint of amusement was apparent in his tone.

At last, the stable arrived.

“Here we are. The stables have over a hundred stalls and each stall has 7 horses. We can’t go into all of them today, but I will take you to meet Rajalakshmi.”

“Who is Rajalakshami?”

“Ah… she is the nicest, sweetest horse in stable four. She will be perfect for you. And she was born only two years ago so she is a child, just like you.”

“Do you mean… do you mean I will get to ride her?”

“That is exactly what I mean.”

Baahu smiled one of his large, sunny smiles for Katappa. And the young slave could not help but smile back. But his eyes turned misty. He missed the boy’s father dearly. And he wished there was something he could do to change Bijjaladeva’s attitude towards him.

But he was a nobody. He had no rights. And he could never say anything to any member of the royal family.

He existed only to do what was asked of him. Nothing more. Nothing less.

But would he… would he stretch the boundary for Maharaj Vikramadeva’s son? Would he do this for his… his… dare he say, his late friend?

His friendship with the king had been a closely guarded secret. And now that the king was no more, Katappa wasn’t sure he could share that part of his life with anyone. It would be too painful.

But… what would it feel like to give all of himself to this child, this last miraculous link to his happy childhood with the only friend he had ever had; against all odds, defying all social norms.

“Baahu, I am sorry about how Uncle Bijjaladeva treated you in the hall of audiences,” Katappa said. “We can talk about what happened; if you want to that is.”

“Then when will I ride Rajalakshmi?”

“Tomorrow morning. I will bring her out at the crack of dawn and you can begin your riding lessons if the Rajmata permits. I will ask her. I am sure she will allow it.”

“Then yes, I do want to talk. I have some questions. But I am also tired. Can we go back inside?”

Baahu sounded a lot older in that moment but his chubby little face and his large earnest eyes did not hide his vulnerability. For all his maturity, he was still a kid.

“Ask me anything you like, my child,” Katappa said as they made their way to the younger yuvaraj’s bedroom in the royal nursery.

“Sit on the bed with me,” Baahu requested Katappa.

“I can’t, my prince,” He said, not sure how to explain slavery to such a small child.

“Why not? There is plenty of space. I want you to sit here. With. Me.”

Katappa had no choice. He sat down, awkward and afraid of what would happen if someone saw him in this position.

“Why does Uncle Bijjala hate me so much?” Baahu asked quietly. “He never blesses me when I touch his feet. He never returns my greetings. He never hugs me like he hugs Bhalla. And that time I fell down and scraped my knee, he didn’t even stop to pick me up even though I was in pain and crying. Am I a bad boy? Is that why he hates me?”

There was such raw, naked agony in the child’s words that Katappa felt shaken to his core. However, he was not surprised at all.

Bijjaladeva was a bitter, cruel man who knew nothing but envy and selfishness.

But that could not be a satisfactory answer for Baahu.

So, for the first time in his life, Katappa lied to a member of the royal family.

“Your uncle does not hate you. He is Mr. Grumpy. A _pisacha_ tricked him into eating the grumpy grain when he was a kid. Since then, he has always been that way with everyone.”

“But he isn’t like that with Bhalla.”

“Oh yes, he is. But Bhalla doesn’t say anything. He is your wise big brother. He doesn’t want to scare you.”

“Oh wow! A secret. Can I tell Bhalla I know his secret?”

“No, no, you can’t. If Bhalla knows that you know, it won’t be a secret anymore and where’s the fun in that?”

“That’s true. I have never had a secret before. This is a wonderful game. I want more secrets.”

Katappa hesitated.

There was a secret he would love to share with Baahu. But he was unsure if it was the right thing to do.

Ultimately, his instincts overrode his sense of duty.

“Baahu, how would you like a secret friend?”

“A secret friend?”

“Yes. Someone you can tell everything to and someone who will tell you everything. Your secret friend will always love you and protect you from harm and you will never have to worry about them getting angry with you over anything.”

“I would like that very much. Bhalla also doesn’t have a secret friend. Finally, I will have something before him. But after that, can I share the secret friend with him too. Guruji says a little brother should share everything with his older brother—just like Rama and Lakshmana?”

“No, Baahu. The secret friend can only be yours. I will be your secret friend. You can be Bhalla’s secret friend. That way, both you and your brother will have secret friends, but I will be exclusively yours.”

“All mine?”

“Yes.”

“And you will never tell on me or complain about me behind my back?”

“Never.”

“And you will never get me into trouble for your mischief?”

“I will not.”

“And you will drink the nasty glass of milk we drink every evening?”

“I wil… wait, what?”

“You said my secret friend would protect me. Will you protect me from the disgusting taste of milk?”

“Er… no, Baahu. That won’t be possible. The Rajmata insists you drink your milk in front of her eyes, clearly with good reason. I can’t possibly take your place in front of her.

“Okay. You can do other things. Like my Telugu homework.”

“That won’t be possible either.”

“Then what will be possible? What’s the point of a secret friend if you will be unable to help me with all my difficult tasks?”

“I will be here when you need to talk.”

“Humph! I can always talk to Bhalla.”

“That you can. It is late. You don’t have to decide today. I will be your secret friend whenever you are ready for it. You should sleep now. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Baahu yawned sleepily and the moment his head hit the pillow, he was fast asleep.

Katappa left the room, careful to not make any sound. A small smile played at his lips. Baahu was so much like his father at the same age.

Maybe, there would be more joyful moments in his own life too. Only, he really did not wish to wear flowers in his beard!

But even if he had to, it would be a small price to pay for the immense joy Baahu’s love and friendship would bring him.

It was too much to hope for. It was a daring, sacrilegious thought.

But Katappa was human, as much as he was a slave. And his soul was tickled at the thought of being a father-figure and a friend to Baahu.

This joy would be his to savor through the night.

He was sure his offer for the secret friendship would be accepted.

*****

Water stains were hardly visible on silk. Katappa’s mind made this useless observation as he gently lulled Baahu to sleep. There were tear tracks on his face; and on Katappa’s own silk tunic. That’s how he knew the stains were not easily seen but their wetness was real on his skin.

Birthdays should never be sad, especially not for a prince.

But once again, Baahu’s young heart had been broken on this special day by his vicious uncle.

“What do you want a celebration for?” he had said in his usual sneering way earlier in the evening. “You swallowed up your father and then your mother. Why celebrate the death of the parents you killed?”

And just like that, the festivities had come to an abrupt halt.

Baahu had not been told about the circumstances and timing of his parents’ deaths.

However, now that he knew, he couldn’t help but feel responsible.

“I am the curse,” he had wept. “And I shouldn’t exist. I will destroy everyone. You should also leave me and go.”

It had taken Katappa over an hour to calm him down.

Thankfully, the worst of it was now over.

He wondered how much more emotional torment Bijjaladeva would heap upon his nephew as the years would go on. And would Baahu be strong enough to handle it?

He didn’t know but he promised to himself that he would be there for him always. He would stand between him and the world and he would destroy the world if need be.

Of course, he didn’t know that twenty years later, the prophesied destruction would come by his own sword upon his own world; the world called Amarendra Baahubali.


End file.
